Page 192 of Rule of Wolves

Joran paused at the door, meeting first the prince’s gaze, then Nina’s. “Whatever you require, Your Highness. You need only ask.” He said the words as if speaking a vow. “I’ll see that you’re not disturbed.”

He bowed and departed, closing the door behind him. There were no witnesses now, only the clouds and the sky beyond.

The honeyed light caught on the prince’s features. He was watching her with an expression she’d never seen on his haughty royal face before. She saw fear there, and her own hope reflected back to her.

“Where did we meet?” she whispered.

“In a clearing by a poison stream,” the crown prince replied in that soft, husky voice. “I rode a white horse, and for a moment, you believed I was a soldier.”

Before Nina’s mind could protest, her feet were carrying her across the room. She threw her arms around him.

“Never let me go,” Hanne whispered against her hair, holding her tight.

“Never again.” She drew back. “But … the prince?”

Hanne’s guilty expression said all it needed to. Rasmus was dead, his head dashed by the fall. He’d died wearing Hanne’s face.

“How? What happened in that tower?”

Hanne took a breath. “Prince Rasmus started drinking when Fjerda’s bells were destroyed. He was all mocking words for my father and his plans. He … he thought it was amusing to give me a slap.”

“We knew how cruel he could be. I never should have left you alone with him.”

“It was a small slap.”

“Hanne!”

“It was. It was a test. I think he wanted to see how far he could go. He told me to strike him back, just as he did with Joran. He dared me to hit him. He hit me again. He said we’d play this game whenever he pleased when we were husband and wife. Joran tried to stop him, but … I panicked. I didn’t mean to do it.”

“You used your power on him.”

A tear slid down Hanne’s cheek. “His heart. I think I crushed it … I’ve never hurt someone that way.”

Nina cupped Hanne’s face in her palms. “I know you didn’t mean to. I know you never would.” Hanne had always been too good and too kind for the ugliness of this world.

“I told Joran to run for help. I tried to heal the prince. But I knew he was dead.”

“So you tailored him.”

“Yes. And myself. As quickly as I could. But Joran … I think he took his time.”

To help Hanne? Or because he wanted Prince Rasmus dead? Whatever you require, Your Highness. Could Nina call that redemption? Did his motives matter? Joran had saved Hanne’s life today. He had spoken against Brum. He’d known Nina was not Mila Jandersdat and yet he’d kept that secret to himself. Maybe it could be a beginning.

“I bound my breasts, changed our clothes, and … and … I threw his body out the window.”

“All Saints.”

Hanne sat down on a wide velvet bench. “What am I to tell my mother? She thinks I’m dead. You can’t imagine what it was to hear her grieve, to see you on your knees weeping for me. I can’t lose her, Nina.”

“We’ll find a way to tell her. In time. But Hanne … what do we do now? You’ll have to face the Grimjer king and queen.”

“I can tailor myself more fully before then. Though I wish I had your gift for performance.”

Nina had to laugh. “You did brilliantly. I absolutely believed you were Rasmus. You’re lucky I didn’t murder you on the spot.”

“Don’t think I wasn’t worried. But fooling his parents?”

Hanne had learned deception from Nina over the last months. She’d spent a good part of her life at the Ice Court learning its protocols, and she’d been so much in the prince’s company that his mannerisms and ways of speech were no mystery.